


I'm the King of the Road, You're the Queen of My Throne

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Thor (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Born Small; That's All!, Comic Canon, Hammer Meet Knife, Jeremy Renner Sings!, Loki (2019) #1, M/M, President of the Drrf Fan Club, Thorki - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 16:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: Some time after the events of the Loki (2019) #1 comic, the twin kings of Asgard and Jotunheim must move beyond family tradition, and at last learn to communicate. Initial effort: A-.





	I'm the King of the Road, You're the Queen of My Throne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patientalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/gifts).



> I like Drrf from the premiere issue of the "Loki (2019)" comic series a lot, and also the trope(/kink, idk) of accidental voyeurism from a most undeserving ... for lack of a better word, cuckold, and out this came (FUCKING FINALLY). Title comes from Jeremy Renner's (!!!) new like song single (!!!), should we call it a songle if it comes from someone we had no idea even had aspirations of being a hot rock star, and yet??? Anywho, it's called "Main Attraction," and it kind of sounds like the opening song of The Greatest Showman, and I lowkey wonder if Renner lowkey hates and/or loves Hugh Jackman now ngl, but it's just different enough in a middle class night club with lots of white people in it kind of way so as to avoid a lawsuit, but either way it totally slaps. May this humble offering satisfy our favorite trickster god, who maybe in turn can help a girl out in cracking out a bit more writing this summer, wink wink nudge nudge. Anywho, onward.
> 
> "Think of it this way, my friends: Thor is the hammer you see coming a mile away. But Loki is the knife in the back." - Loki (2019) #1

The entire reason Loki cottons onto Drrf is two-fold: While it's notable that the God of Mischief and newly-minted Crowned King of Jotunheim has a soft spot for those who happen to be 'born small,' the same way that his previously reincarnated child self saw something worth saving in Thori the (aptly-named, considering the creature's slobbering adoration for the God of Thunder, the ungrateful cur) Hel-hound, that Drrf provides an easily accessible patsy-slash-messenger from whom mediocre excuses regarding Loki's callow behavior during his grace period as Jotunheim's latest successor can be proffered is hardly subtle. Still, as far as Drrf is concerned, Loki's acknowledgment equals protection from some of the harsher elements within his homeland, the frigid weather aside.

All the same, being born not only small, but also meek means that he had learned early on to pick very few of the myriad battles that others had attempted to thrust upon him. As a result, Drrf caves relatively easily to any potential push-back, to say nothing of when said push-back comes from the All-Father of the entire Nine Realms Himself. Indeed, the first time that Drrf merely stands before Thor is enough to make him quaver, even as one used to being in the presence of literal giants; suffice it to say, the Odinson makes a powerful first impression. Unsurprisingly, when Thor demands to know where Loki has absconded to, it is in Drrf's best interests not to make him ask twice. Loki, for his part, seems to begrudgingly accept this excuse almost immediately, even in his then-inebriated state, an act that automatically puts him head and shoulders, at least figuratively, above King Laufey in Drrf's eyes.

From then on, Thor's semi-frequent presence within Jotunheim's borders is, if not welcome, then at least tolerated. From Drrf's limited perspective, the All-Father seems at least vaguely interested in forging amenable political relations with the land of the Frost Giants, and at least slightly more invested in making sure that Loki fulfills his duties as the newfound king of said land. Unwittingly, Drrf himself seems to become the sole being within the frozen realm aside from Loki to put in considerable face-time with Thor, with Thor being neither particularly pleasant nor mean-spirited, even as he is almost always inevitably made to wait for Loki to make himself presentable. More often than not, once Jotunheim's ruler at last deigns to show himself, he disappears just as quickly through the magical portal connecting Jotunheim and Asgard, Thor usually closely in tow. Neither monarch tends to spare Drrf more than a passing glance once they have reunited on such occasions; more to the point, they often speak but in brief shorthand when their paths cross, a habit borne from a familiarity gifted but to scant few, including those raised as kin.

Drrf knows that he will keep his head down either way; and yet, sometimes, in spite of doing his generally best attempt to do just that, he hears things, jeers, insinuations from the other Frost Giants about their new king, about the things he's done, things that might offend even a Jotun's indelicate sensibilities, including but not limited to within the context of his decidedly unbrotherly relationship with his adopted sibling. As far as Drrf is concerned, he knows he would still be fairly happily loyal to Loki even if some of the worst of it turned out to be true. Simultaneously, were one of said Frost Giants ever to press him for his potentially unique insight on such matters, he would likewise truthfully only be able to speculate. He simply doesn't know enough about either the Odinson or Laufeyson to confirm or deny what they might do or not do with one another.

He doesn't know, that is, until, one fateful day, he does.

Loki takes even longer than usual on this particular morning to get his personal particulars sorted in a reasonable amount of time. His brother - who, even when in a neutral disposition, does not strike Drrf as a particularly patient being - likewise seems much more irate today when Loki at last appears. "Did you have to weave the very fabric of your outfit together with remnants of the cosmic balance itself in order to dress yourself this morning?" Asgard's ruler commands.

Tittering - and teetering slightly, too, truth be told, because while Loki has learned more often than not how to still have fun while shirking his ruling responsibilities without drawing Thor's watchful-slash-sole eye, the previous evening's goings-ons did not fall under this overarching jurisdiction, alas - at this, Loki nonethless squirms. Unwittingly present - he was essentially standing incidentally only a couple giant's handspans' lengths away when the two kings were brought together by Loki's hungover moseying - for the sharp bark of Thor's demand to pierce even Jotunheim's frigid air, Drrf likewise becomes unwittingly wondrous of his homeland's newest king, the movement so shockingly familiar to him. The feeling makes him brave, and he eventually creeps out to hide behind a pillar wider than he is in order to hear more. He has no intention of potentially using anything he might learn to his advantage or anything of the sort; rather, it is as though a hungry curiosity that he has spent most of his life trying to tamp down upon for the sheer purpose of his continued survival has been suddenly reawakened.

"-ridiculous, you know that, Loki? You've literally spent eons scheming in that weaselly little brain of yours how to manufacture yourself a throne, and now that you finally have a legitimate claim to one, you seek to destroy it and yourself with it." A pause. "You really are your own worst enemy, aren't you, brother?"

Loki sounds to be wetting or clearing his throat, possibly to save face, almost certainly to stall. Eventually, he replies: "Better a weasel than a bilgesnipe."

"Is that really all you can say?" Drrf isn't entirely certain how Loki can manage to sound as though he's simultaneously trying not to completely lose his shit in front of Thor and not to outright laugh at Thor (neither resolutely assuring his continued existence, truth be told); however, Loki does, in fact, manage. "Do you really loathe yourself so badly, brother?"

Loki seems to be parsing out his words carefully, likely out of necessity, given his current concomitant physical and mental state. Even so, they come out a little slurred, in spite of his considerable efforts. "Can't you just let me pretend I don't for a while?"

"You can pretend far better than this." There's a small scuffling sound, to Drrf's surprise. Chancing a one-eyed glance around the pillar's closest face, his view confirms that Thor has gripped Loki by the front of Loki's elegantly decorated robes, and pulled him close enough to clasp his upper arms with beefy fingers. "What's the use of coming back to bask in the forgiveness if you're going to keep making us do this part over and over again?"

Loki seems to ... soften; deflate, somehow. "You really miss me when I'm gone." It is not a question; rather, it is said with the most reverent tone that Drrf has ever heard him use, another VIP perk.

The two kings seem to stare at one another for a moment or two. Then, oh! Drrf whirls back behind the pillar, cupping his hand to his mouth for a moment. He takes a deep, silent breath, and resumes staring at what made him jump away before: The two kings, kissing. Their forms entangle, as though they are a physical embodiments of two souls coming together at last, small and large, dark and light, yin and yang; and then, there begins a fair and frantic amount of clothing removal. Drrf, who personally wears very little, is fascinated with how frankly long it takes.

Eventually, Thor moves behind Loki, and once again, against his known nature, Loki does not stop him. It appears that the newly Crowned King of Jotunheim likes it a little rough. Loki would have been okay here, Drrf now knows - he could have survived if he'd had to, if he, too, had been both born and raised small here. Perhaps it is their sudden suspected kinship that keeps his gaze set upon the scene before him; regardless, the two brothers fuck through the next several minutes. At the spectacle's apex, Thor's hand, clasped around Loki's cock, rocks forward one last time before Loki, pupils blown, lets out a loud wail. As his caterwauling peters off, Thor at last (at last!) bites out, "I am not. Fucking. Doing this ... alone!"

Drrf knows for sure now, to be certain.

Afterwards, Loki huffily positions himself within the ring of Thor's giant arms, undoubtedly to take a load off of his own dramatic aftermath, allowing Drrf to idly speculate with a fair amount of certainty now that this is one hundred percent characteristic of the Crowned King of Jotunheim. Eventually, it once more becomes time to re-dress themselves, to move from fighting to fucking to whatever this uncharted goddamn territory is that's happening now. It's a good time for Drrf to slip away; and then, as he begins to do just that, he hears Thor mutter, "You think you'd better tell your little messenger that you're leaving? Barf, is that his name?"

"Drrf," Loki corrects him, and Drrf's feet are fixed to the ground now, as though something suddenly adheres them. Then: "No need. He won't disappoint me. On purpose, anyway. Plus, Frosti is here." The first time Drrf had laid eyes upon the eldritch creature that the Norn Stones themselves had conjured, he had rushed back to his chambers and fainted straightaway. Indeed, said creature's nature is at large with its ridiculous title, in much the same manner as the naming device utilized by the depths of Loki's adolescent brain to conjure a name like 'Thori.' Now, however, mention of the giant, enchanted snow man barely registers on Drrf's radar.

The sound of the Bifrost activating is impossible for one of a small-born nature to be expected to ignore, and so Drrf does not, and it is glorious. Just before the tunnel of light before him closes, leaving Jotunheim once more in its usual dully shining splendor, Drrf, transfixed, is accosted - gradually, as though it creeps through his very brain in a serpentine manner - with a single thought: 'Will you, Drrf?'

'No, your majesty," Drrf gasps, before scampering away from the throne room without looking back. Even so, another serpentine realization, perhaps an imprint of its predecessor, lingers, tinged with a rare and all-too-desperately seized upon feeling of contentment. It lasts long enough to bade him successfully, safely scurry into the mouse-sized hole in the palace that he'd come to tentatively call home, another VIP perk bequeathed unto Drrf by the Crowned King of Jotunheim. Likewise, there had existed in him, ever since Loki had come back, had come home, a small yet hopeful glimmer. Today, his chest feels full, warm even, his belly pregnant with the recent knowledge on which he has recently glutted himself. Today, Drrf knows that he was born both small and blessed.


End file.
